I write about karma because it has become a familiar, casual phrase—everyone in Vietnam talks about it, everyone believes they are living in a way that “doesn’t accumulate karma too much.” Yet most people misunderstand it right from the root. And because they don’t understand how karma actually operates, they end up creating even more karma without realizing it.

People often think karma is about the big things they have done in this life or in past lives: good deeds get rewarded, bad deeds get punished, as if there were some invisible ledger floating somewhere above each person’s head.

This way of understanding gives rise to a kind of moral pretense—everyone thinks they are being sincere. But if each person truly turns back to observe not only their actions in daily life (the coarse level) but also their own mental activity (the subtle level), they will see that karma is not somewhere far away, nor does it wait until a future life to take effect. It is operating very concretely, very ordinarily, right inside each small reaction we create toward whatever has just happened to us.

One thing needs to be said plainly: karma does not begin with outward action; it begins with how we handle each tiny experience after a mental impulse arises.

A slip of the tongue, a hasty gesture, a habitual decision—by themselves, these do not yet create much acceleration in the wheel of karma. What thickens karma—what, to put it simply, increases its acceleration moment by moment—is the next layer of reaction: the worrying, the self-torment, the hesitation, the self-blame, the justification, the wish to fix things, the wish for things to be different, the desire for a better outcome, the desire to become a “better version” of oneself than now, than a moment ago, or better than someone else.

At that very moment, a new karmic chain has already been set in motion. In Buddhist terms, this corresponds to what is called “formations” among the five aggregates—the psychological impulses and fabrications within the mind (known only to oneself), not the coarse external actions.

🌿🌿 What we call “my life” contains nothing more than what is happening right now in the body and in its reactions. 🌿🌿

I say this not to philosophize, but to bring things back to their actual scale. When we say “I am living,” we usually imagine something vast, stretching from birth to death, with a story, a meaning, a journey, ups and downs. But if we set aside all that storytelling and look directly at experience as it unfolds moment by moment, we will see that life consists only of what we receive through the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

That is all that what we call “a human life” revolves around.

We often think life exists somewhere beyond these things, like a great current we are immersed in. But if we look closely, there is no other current. There are only moments following one another, each moment made up of exactly those elements. There is no separate “life” standing behind them, controlling them. A sensation arises—there it is. It passes—then it’s gone. A reaction arises—there it is. It dissolves—then it’s gone. We habitually call this continuity “I am living,” but that is just a label.

When we begin to narrate—“My life has been exhausting lately,” “I’m in a difficult phase,” “I need to change my life”—another layer is constructed, thicker and heavier, and we start living inside those ideas instead of inside what is actually happening.

What many people don’t realize is that these narratives are not life itself. They are reactions to life. Life itself is very simple: there is contact, there is sensation, there is recognition, there are natural biological reactions, there are natural biological traces.

For those familiar with Buddhist teachings, this sequence corresponds to contact, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness. When everything flows smoothly, when no one steps in to “add” anything, the process completes itself naturally, lightly, without residue. I call this a self-closing process, because it doesn’t require a manager to intervene or control it. Like a glass of muddy water: if left alone, the sediment settles and the water clears by itself. No one needs to do anything extra.

The problem is that we rarely leave it alone. The moment we see the water still cloudy, we become impatient, anxious, wanting it to clear faster, and we stick our hand in to stir it—hoping to make the sediment settle. But precisely because we want it to settle, we interfere, and every interference makes the water cloudier.

Karma works in exactly the same way. Not because the initial sensation is wrong (for example, the arising of desire or lust), but because the reaction that tries to fix or change that sensation creates additional impulses, further accelerating karmic momentum. In the Buddhist teaching of dependent origination, this is very close to craving and clinging—the tendency to grasp and hold on—even when it wears the label of “making things better.”

The subtlety here is that this reaction is often beautifully disguised. It takes the form of good intentions, responsibility, practice, morality, self-improvement. But if we observe very carefully, we will detect tension, longing, the impulse of “I am doing the right thing,” “I must improve,” “I need to reach something.” I call these impulses because many people object, saying, “I didn’t think that.” That is because these impulses are the accelerating force that propels karma forward before thought even forms. Thought is only a later by-product. But it takes great subtlety and honesty to notice these impulses as they arise.

These are precisely what make the simple chain—contact, sensation, recognition—become cumbersome, because each reaction then requires another reaction to deal with it. At this point, the five aggregates no longer self-close; they are stretched out into countless loops of mental formations, like a system riddled with cancer or stuck in a recurring code error. In my classes, I sometimes joke and say, “It’s like a skipping record.”

What was once “contact, sensation, recognition, natural biological reaction, natural biological trace” now becomes tangled and circuitous at every stage. Natural biological responses are overlaid with layers of reactions shaped by ideas, beliefs, fears—what I often call scars.

As a result, traces that could have remained mere reference points—if ever needed—become consequences instead:
– in mild cases, a default lack of clarity in life situations, leading to repeated mistakes;
– in severe cases, psychological trauma, nervous system inhibition, disruptions in energy and circulation, and the emergence of physical illness.

All of these traces then become the basis, the programming, for continuing this cumbersome mode of operation when we perceive, process, and respond to life.

When we clearly understand how life operates, we see that karmic results are not some suspended sentence waiting to “ripen” someday, but the very natural outcome of repeatedly interfering with life’s flow through intention and desire. Each interference adds another impulse, and each impulse leaves behind familiar inertia.

This inertia makes the next reaction faster, denser, more persistent, and eventually default—harder to see. A Buddhist practitioner will recognize this as dependent origination at work: when this exists, that exists; when this increases, that increases—no overseer required.

Many people suffer not simply because life is heavy, but because they carry a great deal that is unnecessary. An unpleasant sensation only needs to be seen as it is, and that would be enough. But because they want it to disappear, they generate an entire chain of analysis, struggle, self-judgment, and then disappointment at not having “achieved” something.

Karma arises from this excess and clumsiness. If one simply looks directly at the experience that is present, without adding, without rushing to fix it, karma has no ground to thicken. This sounds simple, but it is very difficult, because the habit of “sticking a hand into the glass to make the sediment settle faster” is deeply ingrained.

Seen this way, karma is neither frightening nor mysterious. It is very ordinary, very close, and very fair. There is no one lurking to punish, no one waiting to reward—only the natural operation of what we repeatedly do.

And for this very reason, the most direct and gentle way out of suffering is not to try to make oneself better, but to clearly see where, how, and why one is accelerating karmic accumulation within one’s own mind. Whatever inertia of self-blame, resentment, or impatience arises—simply see it.

That seeing alone, if complete enough, naturally causes the hand to withdraw from the glass, allowing the water to settle on its own. That is why there is no method. That is why there is no reliance. That is why there is non-doing. As long as we keep reaching in, wanting things this way or that way, we continue fabricating and driving karmic movement. This is not about being cryptic, different, or trying to look impressive—it is simply how life’s operating structure works. That is why I guide people to simply see.

One thing must be said again and again, or people easily fall into two wrong extremes: fear and pessimism, or arrogance and the belief that they control destiny. Karma itself is neutral. It is neither good nor evil. It neither rewards nor punishes nor educates anyone. It simply operates.

When karma is misunderstood through a moral lens, people become afraid—afraid of doing wrong, afraid of paying a price, afraid of a bad future. When karma is understood as control, people become excited—thinking that if they act right, think right, practice right, they will level up, escape, become superior. Both attitudes arise from not seeing one’s own mind clearly enough to understand how karma operates.

The mechanism of karma is very simple and lies right in each person’s hands—but not in the sense of “I can control everything.” It lies in this: each time a reaction occurs, one can see whether one is thickening the process (through struggle, suppression, argument, craving, worry) or allowing it to self-close. No special power is needed, no lofty knowledge. Just see whether one is adding to the mental process or not.

An unpleasant sensation arising is neutral. It is neither bad nor good. It is simply the result of contact. At that moment, karma has not yet thickened. Karma only gains weight when we react by holding on, pushing away, blaming ourselves, or trying to fix things. But even this reaction is not a “sin.” It is merely a reflex shaped by many past inertias. When it is seen, the process lightens. When it is not seen, the process keeps being overwritten—the record keeps skipping. There is no deity standing in judgment.

Because karma is neutral, there is no place for pessimism. No one is permanently “doomed.” Mental processes remain self-binding only as long as those bindings are continually reinforced. When reinforcement stops, they weaken on their own. And because karma is neutral, there is also no place for arrogance. No one is “higher” because they have less karma. There are only lighter or more tangled mental processes—and this can change from moment to moment. Every moment is an appropriate moment to see.

Many people think “purifying karma” means doing everything perfectly, purely, correctly—elaborate rituals, offerings, ceremonies. In truth, if these things have any benefit at all, it is only as a distraction for the person who keeps wanting to stick their hand into the glass. The reflex to interfere remains unchanged.

Ultimately, what matters is this: immediately after a reaction arises in the mind, is there an intentional addition—another layer of processing—or not? If there is, another impulse is added and the process becomes more tangled. If there is not, the process self-closes and releases itself. You don’t need to force a choice, because when seeing is clear, not adding happens naturally.

Seen correctly, karma is no longer something to fear, nor a tool for display. It does not remember who is good or record who is bad. It simply reflects how cumbersome or how streamlined our way of living is.

And precisely because it is neutral, it is trustworthy. No sentimentality, no favoritism, no manipulation. When people look directly at this mechanism, they relax, strain less, and feel less need to prove anything. When karma is no longer feared or used to inflate oneself or manipulate others, life naturally returns to being very ordinary. And it is this ordinariness that allows things to function effectively.

Those who follow Buddhism can compare this with the five aggregates and the twelve links of dependent origination and see that there is no contradiction—I am simply speaking in a language closer to everyday life. Just look back at how your mind reacts each day, and you will see that karma is not somewhere far away; it is being created steadily in each moment you refuse to let yourself be at ease, to be afraid, to be foolish.

When looking into the mind, as long as there is an urge to ask, “How do I…?” there is still fabrication.

Phan Ý Ly
19.12.2025